


This Ain't Twilight, Kid

by The_Little_Sun



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, Brotherly Bonding, Gen, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery Trio-era, One-sided Fiddleford H. McGucket/Stanford Pines, Original Mystery Twins, Poor Ford, Vampire Fidds AU, Vampirehunter Bros AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-06-07 10:05:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6799465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Little_Sun/pseuds/The_Little_Sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off the wonderful ideas over at http://biteinsane.tumblr.com/ (go check it out!).</p><p>Stanford knew that some of his research could get dangerous. There were to many unpredictable variables when dealing with the supernatural. But vampires? This was starting to look like some trashy romance novel gone wrong. (Vampire Fidds AU/Vampirehunter Bros AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Stanford Pines inspected the dirt walls surrounding him. He had been chasing after some gnomes that had stolen his tape recorder when the ground had given out under his weight. He hadn’t fallen far, but certainly enough to leave an assortment of bruises and scrapes along his body. Luckily he hadn’t broken or twisted anything. The gnomes had even come back to see if he was still alive. They didn’t seem all that sympathetic to his situation, but they had at least offered to find something to help him out. That was a good hour and a half ago. Ford had settled himself up against one wall and occupied himself with sketching messy figures in the dirt.

There was a loud crack up above. Ford peered up, one hand shading his eyes to protect his glasses from the dirt and pebbles raining down on him. “Hello?” He called, not sure if he should be nervous that whatever had made the hole was coming for a visit or hopeful that the gnomes hadn’t forgotten about him.

“Oh my!” A face appeared above him. “Is there someone down there?”

Ford scrambled to his feet. “Yes! Yes, I’m stuck! Is there anyway you can assist me?”

“Of course! Just one moment, I’ll need to go back to my car to get some rope.” The face disappeared. Ford sat down again, ready to wait for as long as he had too.

It took a surprisingly short amount of time for the man to return. One end of a thick rope landed right in Ford’s lap. The man could be heard angrily grumbling before he returned to the opening. “Okay, I think that should be good. Hold on and I’ll try to pull you up.”

Ford got back to his feet and wrapped the rope around one arm. To his surprise, there was a strong yank on the rope and he was jolted upwards. He was quick cling on all the tighter. After a few more determined pulls, Ford found himself being grabbed by his shirt front and dragged out of the gaping hole. He collapsed onto the ground with a huff. A hand appeared in front of him. Ford gratefully accepted the help. The man pulled him up onto his feet and gave him a wide smile.

“What? A little surprised?”

Indeed Ford was.  His savior had messy dark blond hair and a long nose. His green eyes were protected by a pair of small, thick spectacles. His clothes had to have been a size too big judging by the way they seemed to swamp the man. But what most shocked Ford was the fact that the man standing before him with a knowing smile was a good head shorter than him and was about as scrawny as a newborn fawn. There couldn’t be anyway that he was strong enough to pull Ford out of the hole.

The man seemed to have read his thoughts. “I know, I know. I look like I could barely lift a milk jug. Don’t let my looks fool you though, mister.” He winked at Ford. 

“Ah, of course,” Ford stammered, “Of course. Uh, thank you for getting me out. I really appreciate it.”

“Not a problem, Mister…?”

“Oh! Stanford Pines.”

The man stuck out his hand. “Fiddleford McGucket. Nice to meet you, Stanford.”

Ford shook Fiddleford’s hand. It had been a long time since someone called him Stanford. The more common name had been “Freak” for so long that it felt nice to be called by his actual name. Fiddleford let go and stepped back to gather the rope back into a semi-neat coil. Ford stood by awkwardly until he noticed something glinting behind Fiddleford. 

“You’re that scientist that just moved to town, right?”

“That’s me.” Ford snatched his battered tape recorder from the ground with a scowl. 

Fiddleford looked up at him in amusement. “Then I’m guessing you need a ride back to town?”

Oh. Right. He’d forgotten about how he was suppose to return home. They were currently in part of the deep forest, probably close to the heart of it. Ford’s house may be several miles into the woods, but it was still a good two hour walk back. Then again, where would one even park their car near here?

Fiddleford apparently took his silence as a yes. “It’s about a ten minute walk to the car. You think you can make it?”

Ford huffed, “Of course! Lead the way.” Fiddleford laughed as he walked away. Ford hurried to catch up.

As they walked, Fiddleford pointed out things here and there. A rock formation that looked like his mother, a tree that had somehow grown around an old fashioned bicycle, a group of mushrooms that were rumored to have magical healing properties. Ford was listening with enthralled interest. He occasionally asked a question, but was otherwise silent. Fiddleford seemed to appreciate the interest. 

“Then, of course, there are the ‘vampires’.”   


“Vampires?”

“Yeah,” Fiddleford laughed. “Just yesterday I overheard Susan and Dan talking about it. See, people say that some of the first settlers in Gravity Falls were vampires. Apparently they turned a few others then just poof! Disappeared into the night.”

Ford raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t heard about vampires when the few times he was in town and had talked to people. “So they are gone?”

Fiddleford shrugged. “Susan is certain that there’s a vampire living out here. She claims that it’s taking her cats.”   


“I can see her believing that,” Ford agreed. “Do  _ you _ believe that vampires live among the good townsfolk of Gravity Falls?”

“I believe in a lot of the supernatural. I mean, it’s kind of hard not too when you live here. But vampires? That’s a stretch.”

“Who else thinks that there are vampires?”

“Why? You going to go start a club?”

Ford bristled at Fiddleford’s mocking tone. “No!”

“Relax,” Fiddleford said mildly, “I think it’s interesting too. Just don’t take what Susan says at face value. She’s been going a little stir crazy with all that time locked up in the diner. At this point, she’d say that you’re a demon here to end the world as we know it if it would get more people to drop in and keep her company.”

Ford laughed at that. He could certainly imagine the energetic woman bustling around, ‘whispering’ a rumor of some kind in a patron’s ear as she refilled their coffee cup. Fiddleford held out an arm to stop Ford. “Here we are!”

A beat-up periwinkle Audi 5000 was haphazardly parked in between two large pine trees. It’s tires were lined up with a faint trail that wound around a pile of stones off to the right. Fiddleford stepped up to the passenger seat and dug in his pants pockets for a moment. He triumphantly whipped out a keychain that chimed quietly when the keys hit against each other. It even had a little plastic green dinosaur attached. Fiddleford unlocked the door then moved around to the driver’s side. Ford ran a hand over the hood of the car, not for the first time missing his own car that had been quickly dragged into the forest the first day he was in Gravity Falls. He slid into the seat and slammed the door closed. Fiddleford stabbed the keys into the engine and they were soon on their way. 

Fiddleford spent the twenty-some minute drive back to town peppering Ford with questions about his research. Ford explained that he had been given a grant to come out here and research the anomalies. He grew rather animated as he described a few of his findings to the amused Fiddleford. Eventually, they moved on to the topic of what Fiddleford did. His face had gone a little pink when he said that he worked as a mechanic. The blush only grew deeper as he went on to talk about some of his side projects. Ford, while not really believing in the success of Fiddleford’s personal computers, did his best to appear supportive of the idea.  

They drove down the main street before turning onto the gravel road that led to Ford’s house. Ford gave directions as needed, but it appeared Fiddleford knew where he was going. When jokingly asked about it, he had just responded, “What? It’s a small town. When people heard some fancy scientist was building a house out in the woods, everyone came out to take a peek.”

The sun had since disappeared behind the distant mountains when Fiddleford pulled to a stop in front of the large house. Ford gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you for being so kind and helpful to a total stranger.”

Fiddleford waved away the thanks. “Like I said, it’s not a problem! Now, off you go. I’d put a band-aid on that.” 

Ford stepped back and waved at the retreating vehicle. He had to use the spare key hidden in a crack between the doorframe and the wall. It must have fallen out when he fell down. He pushed the door open and stepped into the cold house. The first thing he did was go and start to heat up some water for coffee then went to find some disinfectant for his scrapes. 

He sipped at the warm coffee with a good dollop of sweet honey mixed in while he worked through a good half of the little tube of ointment. When his mug was empty and disposed in the sink and the first-aid kit once again safely tucked away in the bathroom, Ford headed upstairs. He switched his dirtied and torn pants for a pair of sweats that he vaguely wondered if they were his brother’s. Before that thought could take a firmer hold, Ford flopped into his bed and mushed his face against his pillow. He was sound asleep in mere seconds. 

A resounding crash made Ford sit up in bed, any lingering dreams swiftly fading away. The telltale crinkle of broken glass under boots sent a tremor of fear up his spine. He had fallen asleep with his glasses on and they had gotten lost in the tangle of blankets. Ford blindly grasped for something to use as a weapon. His fingers brushed up against something slightly soft and he picked that up. With its familiar weight in his hands, he could easily tell that it was one of his journals. With the heavy book as his only defense against whatever was in his house, Ford crept out of his room and down the stairs.

There wasn’t much light to see by, although that didn’t really matter since everything was already a horrible mess of blurred colors. Ford kept a hand out to keep himself from running into anything and alerting the intruder to his whereabouts. The noises sounded like they were coming from the living room, so he carefully made his way through the kitchen and into the hallway. The hallway was darker than the kitchen, lacking the windows that had provided a small amount of moonlight. He pressed himself against the wall and slowly moved closer to the living room. 

He nearly tripped over something lying across the floor. Ford muttered under his breath and gently moved it with his foot. He was at the entrance of the living room. Much to his surprise, there was a small darker figure that stood out against the shadows. Ford began to inch towards the door. A bone-chilling sense of dread had almost been draped over him. Better to escape the house and let the intruder take what they want then to get into a fight. Ford could handle himself with little problem, but he didn’t know who he was looking at. 

He had only just reached out to grab the doorknob when the figure spun around towards him. Ford froze. The intruder’s eyes were glinting. It took a step towards him. Ford snapped back into himself and did the only thing he could think of. 

He chucked the journal at the intruder as he yanked open the door. 

Behind him was a muffled cry of surprise, but he was already out of the house and running. He didn’t get very far before something heavy collided against his back. Ford stumbled and face-planted on the gravel. Whatever had jumped on him was keeping him pinned despite his valiant attempts at struggling. Someone talking to him, but he couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of his heart. There was an angry hissing noise before something was brought down against the back of Ford’s head. Everything erupted into white flashes of pain in front of Ford’s eyes. It slowly faded away to inky darkness.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Something smelled like cinnamon. 

Ford tried to get out of bed to wander downstairs to see if the brownies had visited again. The perks of helping out the local fairyfolk apparently involved him receiving delicious pastries. Last time they had left a wonderful berry scone. Maybe this time it was an apple pie? Or even snickerdoodles-oh, those were his favorite. If they were snickerdoodles then he’d be the happiest man alive. He just had to get up.

The blankets were refusing to release him. Ford kicked at the tangled mess that captured his legs, but to no avail. He leaned over and managed to pry the covers away. With his new freedom, Ford swung his legs over the edge of his bed and stood up. He took a few stumbled steps before he tripped over his own feet. 

Ford woke up with a yelp. His cheek was pressed to the floor while his lower torso still caught on a mattress. Looking up, he found himself staring at the amused face of some stranger. 

“Holy shit!” Ford jerked backwards. His awkward movement loosened the blankets and the rest of his body crashed to the floor. “What-why-how did you get into my house?”

The stranger gestured to the room around them. “Sorry, kid,” he chuckled, “but this isn’t your place.”

Ford backed away until he was back up on the mattress with his back to a corner of the room. He glanced at the new surroundings. The walls were bare and an off-white. Some flaking paint chips had gathered in the carpet at the bottom of the walls. The mattress was in the farthest corner from an old wooden door. There were no windows and the door was blocked by the man. It certainly was nothing like his own cluttered room. Panic began to creep through his veins.

The man watched Ford with a mild interest. He seemed amused at the fact that Ford looked extraordinarily upset. When Ford’s gaze returned to the man, he scowled. “Then where am I?”

“A room.”

“Right, but where?”

“In a house.”

“Are you serious?”

“I can't give away all our secrets,” the man replied. “Sit tight for a moment. Everyone will want to know that you woke up. Fidds was worried that he hit you too hard.”

“Wait, Fi-” The slamming of the door cut off Ford’s words. He slumped back against the wall and crossed his arms with a huff. The guy could have at least shown him where the bathroom was instead of being a dramatic child and slamming the door. Actually, Ford hadn’t heard the sound of a lock once the door was closed. Maybe he had forgotten to lock it? 

Ford got to his feet and carefully approached the door. He lightly gripped the doorknob in his hand and gave it a tug. The door didn’t budge. He pulled a little harder and the door rewarded him by opening a crack. Triumph flushed his cheeks. Ford nudged the door open enough to allow himself to slip out and into the hallway. He wasn’t all that surprised to see that the hall was as bland and lifeless as the room. Two other doors stood on the opposite side, one was likely a bathroom while the other was possibly another bedroom. He didn’t care to linger and find out. 

He crept down the hall until he reached a staircase. It swung around halfway down to face a different direction. Ford nervously stepped down on the first step, but was relieved to find that the wood didn’t groan under his weight. Regardless, he was careful to avoid making any noise down the rest of the stairs. He hadn’t noticed it before, but it seemed like a headache was going to join the painful throbbing that already had ingrained itself into his head. His vision was a little swarmy. It was hard to distinguish each individual step by the time he had made his way down half of the stairs. He had to take a moment to furious blink in the hopes that it would help. 

There were footsteps coming down the hallway that the stairwell began in. Ford, still with crappy sight, glanced around in the hopes of there being somewhere he could hide. Unfortunately, he only had two options. Retreat back up the stairs and possibly lose the only opportunity to get away from here or he could rush down the stairs and hope to find somewhere to avoid the people approaching. It would be much easier if he could think straight. 

By the time that Ford had come to a decision and began to hurriedly head to the foot of the stairs, someone popped into view in. It was the man from earlier. He waved at Ford. 

Great.

“Where do you think you’re going?” The man looked extremely amused. Ford responded with a glare and stepped back up a few steps. The man held out his hands in a peaceful gesture. The man looked behind him and said, “I told you he’s up. Already trying to make a break for it. Come see.”

A familiar face appeared next to the stranger’s. “Good morning, Ford!”

“Fiddleford?” Ford was taken back. 

Fiddleford beamed. “Looks like your noggin is still okay. I have to apologise for last night and for hitting you. I certainly didn’t expect you to take off!”

“You were in my house?” Ford snapped, eyes narrowed in indignation. “You knocked me out! What the hell?”

“Language!” Fiddleford shook his head, but turned back to beam at the fuming man on the stairs. “It’s all for a good cause, I promise. Why don’t you come down and we can talk over breakfast?”

Ford spun around and went back up the stairs. Okay, so he’d have to find another way out. No big deal, one of these rooms had to have a window or something. He could hear the thumping of feet on wood behind him. He hurried to the closest door and tried the knob. It refused to open. He huffed and moved on to the next one. This one swung open much easier. 

It opened into a small bathroom with a toilet, sink, and bathtub. There was a window above the sink. Ford stepped into the room and slammed the door shut. He made sure to lock it. Inspecting the window while balancing on the sink turned to be a rather precarious situation. It was through pure luck that Ford managed to keep himself upright and with an iron grip on the windowsill. 

The window was big enough that a large dog could easily step through. Screws in poorly painted wood kept it in place. It would be a simple matter of trying to dig out the screws and avoiding smashing the windowpane. Ford tried to pry out one of the lower corner screws, but only succeeded in scraping off some of the skin from his fingertips. He tried a few more times before giving up and hopping off the sink. The sink drawers could have something helpful or at least bandaids for his now bleeding fingers. While he was digging through some of the larger drawers, there came a polite knock on the door.

“Ford, mind opening up?” When there was no reply, Fiddleford’s voice gained a tone that was vaguely reminiscent of Ford’s mother’s voice when she was chiding him for not picking up his things. “It would be better for everyone if you just did as I say.”

“Go to hell,” Ford growled. 

“Been there, done that! Now open the door.”

Ford paused in his task and leaned a hip against the sink. “And why would I do that? Surely you can understand that someone who just woke up in a strange place would be cautious.”

There was quiet from the other side before Fiddleford’s voice simply said, “I can see that.”

Ford didn’t even have a moment to appreciate the faintly reluctant agreement. The door crashed open and sent cracks streaking across the bathroom wall. Fiddleford looked smug while the stranger had an annoying frown in place. Fiddleford peered at the still quivering door. “Oops.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't say anything about it being so late. Or the fact that this is super duper short.  
> Just shhhh.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's ignore how short and how late this is.
> 
> See that number under the three in the chapter section? We have a defined chapter amount!
> 
> (Format may be wacky, I apologize.)

Ford stared in dumbstruck awe as Fiddleford hopped over the door and approached him. He had a large grin stuck in place. “I’d been thinkin’ of repaintin’ that door for a while now. Might as well completely replace it.”   

Ford blankly met the other’s eyes. He couldn’t think of anything to say. Fiddleford sidled up to him and grabbed his elbow. “Why don’t we head down stairs? We can have a nice civilized conversation at the kitchen table without worryin’ about breakin’ anything. I made cinnamon rolls and they are pretty darn good if I do say so myself.” He didn’t give the poor man a chance to answer. He just tugged him away from the sink and over the door.

The man that had been watching from the hallway stood back to let them pass. He winked at Ford then turned his attention to trying to get the door back into a semi-correct position. Fiddleford lead Ford back to the stairs and gently helped him descend to the main floor. For a scientist-kidnapping weirdo, he at least seemed gentlemanly. Ford had yet to decide if that was a good thing.

Regardless of how proper the blond man had been acting, he still had an off feeling about him. There was obviously something wrong with him or something of the like. Maybe because he, first off, actually kidnapped someone from their own home or, second, broke down down a door to get to said kidnapped someone only to offer them cinnamon rolls five seconds later. Fiddleford’s smile alone was enough to send a shiver of unease down his spine when he pulled out a chair for Ford at the kitchen table.

Fiddleford busied himself with setting the table while Ford perched uneasily on his chair. A plate was set in front of him with a large, still steaming cinnamon roll in the middle. It was practically swimming in the frosting that ran down the pastry's sides in goey rivers. The plate was followed by a glass mug full of milk. A napkin rolled around a fork and knife were placed in his hand. Once he set out the same items for himself, Fiddleford sat down across from Ford. He beamed and gestured towards Ford’s food.

“Well? Give it a try.”

Ford poked at the pastry with his fork but otherwise didn’t touch it. Fiddleford frowned.

“ _Try it_.”

Ford hastily dug into the cinnamon roll and popped a large piece into his mouth. He gave the other a thumbs-up. The angry light in Fiddleford’s eyes disappeared in a flash. The earlier smile reappeared and he hummed happily. He tucked into his own breakfast, leaving Ford to alternate between taking smaller bites and watching him nervously. No one else appeared to join them.

When Fiddleford finished his cinnamon roll, he waited patiently for Ford. He didn’t look like he was in a rush, but there was an impatient gleam to his eyes that made Ford quickly stuff the rest of his roll into his mouth. That earned a chuckle.

“Whoa, hungry?”

Ford didn't respond. Fiddleford shrugged and waved one hand about. “How about this? I’ll talk and you can interrupt with my questions. Sound good?” When Ford refused to respond again, he continued, “Here’s the dealy-o, Ford. This shouldn't come as a huge shock to you, fancy researcher of the supernatural that you are, but you just so happened to wander into the territory of some really not so friendly critters. Fortunately, the leader of said critters has taken a likin’ to you.”

Ford glowered at his empty plate and grumbled, “I’m assuming that this isn't a warning and you don't plan on letting me go.”

“Sharp as I'd expect!” Fiddleford beamed. “This is wonderful. I won't be surrounded by complete idiots any longer. You and I can have intelligent conversations that don't revolve around the next feeding.” His voice had dropped into an angry snap by the time he was finished.

 _Feeding?_ “Oh. So you're the ‘critters’,” Ford exaggerated the air quotes, “and you must be the leader.”

“Bingo!”

“And what are you exactly?”

The smile Ford received was borderline predatory. “I remember tellin’ you the first time we ran into each other.”

What? But all they had talked about was his research. Ford had been careful not to mention any of the various species he’s been studying, so it must have something unrelated from them. But what else had they talked about?

Oh. _Oh, no._

“You're vampires.”

Fiddleford placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward. His smile grew. “Right on the money, Ford. Honestly, I'm impressed that you hadn't found the coven yet. We’re not all that small.”

Ford’s mind was reeling. What did he know about vampires? They drank blood, obviously. Sharp fangs, some connection to bats that he thought was a myth, and a tendency to form a tight-knit group. He’d read Dracula more than enough times to connect the dots from there. But he was still more curious than concerned for his safety.

“Okay. So you're blood sucking, undead beings. Interesting.”

Fiddleford appeared shocked. He even drew back and put a hand over his mouth with a gasp. “Undead? Blood sucking creatures? Well, close. Blood is great, but we can survive off of human food. Doesn't provide all the nutrients we need, but hey, good food is never gonna be passed up. Now the undead part? Ford, I am just as alive as you. I just live longer, have a much better nose, and am generally superior.”

“So you haven't drinking blood recently?”

“Not what I said. Yesterday, after snatchin’ you up, Al found a deer. They tend to be surprisingly sweet. No human blood recently, though. Starting to get a real cravin’ for it.”

It took a few moments for Fiddleford’s words to register.

“But...I-I...you can't-”

That smile was back in his face and there were fingers gently prodding at his neck. “Oh, relax, Ford. I’m not one to share my things with the rest of the family.”

Fiddleford was getting much too close for Ford's liking. And he knew where this was going. It was terrifyingly obvious.

“ _Shit_.”

  
“Language.”


End file.
